The Christmas Ornament
by mabelreid
Summary: One shot Reid receives a package from his Aunt in Las Vegas, which contains a Christmas Miracle.


_**A/n this one shot is set this season. Please enjoy and Merry Christmas.**_

"Sweet cheeks," Garcia greeted when Reid opened his apartment door.

"Hey Garcia," Reid hugged her tight and smiled broadly at her latest fashion statement.

His best friend wore scarlet framed glasses that matched her lowcut sweater featuring Santa Claus and his reindeer. She wore dark green trousers and flat-heeled shoes. Her hair perched on her head with a red dahlia behind one ear and earrings that looked like Christmas tree ornaments hung from her ears. They swayed with every movement and matched the pendant that hung from a gold chain around her neck. Garcia had painted her lips and fingertips scarlet to match her sweater, and she carried a huge green bag over her shoulder.

"You look great," Reid admired.

"Thanks, you're not so bad yourself."

Reid shrugged and looked down at his gray sweatpants, his blue tee-shirt with a picture of the original Starship Enterprise and his tattered Converse shoes over his only nod to Christmas, mismatched socks featuring Santa Clause and red and white candy canes.

"I'm decent," he joked.

"You're more than decent, honey; you are _hot_."

"Garcia!"

"I must call it as I see it."

"Come in," he said desperately, and Garcia laughed. "All right, I'll stop, for now."

Reid rolled his eyes and led her to the sofa. "Thank you for coming over so quickly."

"It's no problem, gorgeous gray-matter. How can I help you?"

Reid stood and went to a box sitting near his desk. He hefted it and brought it the sofa. "My aunt Ethel sent this to me. She and my Uncle David are selling their house in Las Vegas. They bought a retirement home in Mexico last week."

"Seriously."

"Yeah, I guess they decided that since Mom's no longer in Bennington, they didn't need to stay in Nevada."

"I'm sorry, Reid."

Reid shrugged and pulled open the flaps on the box he'd opened a week ago but hadn't perused. "How can I fault them? David's retiring with millions from his business and they deserve a beachfront view and the opportunity to enjoy their declining years."

"Still, it's your mom's sister."

"Yeah, but I can't expect them to move here to be close to her. They have their lives, and Ethel hates Las Vegas. The only reason she stayed was to be near Mom. I took away that reason from her."

Garcia touched Reid's arm, and he gave her a small smile. "I _am_ sorry, Spencer."

"I know, and I appreciate it. Anyway," he continued as he reached in the box. "When I committed Mom, my Uncle David helped me sell our house. He was an extremely successful and shrewd real estate agent. He got me a great price, and he's managed to make money despite the housing crash in '08. When I moved out here, Aunt Ethel kept several boxes in storage for me. She sent everything to me last week, and this is the only box I didn't put in my new storage locker. I thought you could help me go through it."

Garcia didn't speak as he lifted out a smaller cardboard box and removed the top. When she saw what lay inside, she gasped and rubbed his arm. "Oh, they're beautiful."

"Despite her illness, my mom loved Christmas, and these were her favorite ornaments."

"May I," Garcia asked and picked up one of the Victorian style ornaments. "It's lovely."

The ornaments consisted of Christmas scenes from the nineteenth century. The ornament Garcia held showed a Victorian church in the woods, scene. The box also held ornaments that featured children ice skating on a frozen river and homes lit from within by candlelight that threw shadows across snow-covered roads. Reid picked up one that showed a family in a horse-drawn sleigh, gliding through the woods near a lake. "This was my dad's favorite."

"They look like Thomas Kincaid's work."

"A bit. They're vintage, handed down from my great-grandmother. I'm not sure how they survived until now."

"Your aunt must've taken good care of them."

"Yes, she did."

Reid investigated the box and saw something inside bubble wrap. "I wonder what this is," he questioned as he carefully removed the padding from the object. "Oh, my goodness," he exclaimed.

"Oh, Reid, that's so darling."

He held up a forest green ornament with a white handprint that had been painted to look like snowmen. They were all rendered differently and by the talents of a child. "I can't believe it."

"It's your handprint," Garcia guessed.

"Yes, I made it one year when dad brought home the ornament and paints. I'd told him I wanted to make a gift for my mom – "

He wiped away a tear that welled in his right eye and turned his head away. "Hey," Garcia touched his shoulder. "Don't be ashamed, Spencer. It's wonderful."

"I wish – no, let's finish going through this and then I have eggnog and cookies if you want."

"I think that's a great idea, babycakes."

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Reid hurried from his car to the front doors of Summit Vista, a brand new, private nursing home for Dementia patients. His heart rose into his throat as he walked down the wide hallway and past the cafeteria. It appeared he'd made it just after dinner and he looked inside to see if his mother still lingered but didn't see her. He turned right and passed a nurse's station. Several residents gathered in the common area where "It's a Wonderful Life," played on a flat screen television. He barely noticed the decorations on the walls or the Christmas tree in one corner of the room. None of the residents looked at him as they either watched the movie, sat staring at the walls, lost in their own worlds, or slept in their wheelchairs.

Room 317 lay to his right as he turned left into another wing of the huge building and he stopped at the door. His mother sat in an easy chair near the window of her private room and stared out at the darkness. What did she see when she looked out at the night that pressed in on the glass like a living thing? Reid entered with trepidation because he never knew how she'd receive him now that she'd begun to sink further into her dementia. He stopped for a moment, then said hesitantly. "Mom."

Diana Reid didn't respond to the sound of his voice, and Spencer sighed. He unbuttoned his coat and lay it over the foot of her hospital bed. The white painted walls were hung with Christmas decorations, thanks to JJ and Garcia, who'd come in a week ago and visited with Dianna. Reid surveyed them and tried to feel the charm of the season they were supposed to convey but couldn't quite force the sensation. No matter how he tried to deny it, his mother lived in her own little world that didn't admit her son, or anyone outside of her delusions and fading memories.

"Mom," he tried again, and this time one of her hands twitched in her lap, but she didn't look at him.

Reid leaned down and embraced her. She felt warm, and he could smell the odor of her shampoo over the astringent cleaner they used to keep her room sanitary. He felt the heat of her breath on his neck and saw the blankness in her eyes as she stared into a world beyond his comprehension.

"I brought something for you," Reid choked out.

He reached into his messenger bag and removed the carefully wrapped gift. He lay it in her lap, but she didn't respond except to sigh and blink. Reid wiped away tears from his eyes and reached back into his bag. "Aunt Ethel sent this, mom. She sends her love. She wishes she could be with you for Christmas."

Reid removed the Christmas ornament he'd made at the age of five from its wrappings and hung it on the small Christmas tree standing on her bedside table. "Do you remember this, mom. I made it the first Christmas after we moved to your new house."

Dianna blinked and said. "Who are you?"

"It's me, mom, Spencer. Do you remember me?"

"Spencer," she said his name as though trying to pull something extremely important from the depths of her memory. "You're not Spencer. He's in prison."

Reid jolted, then clamped down on the panic that rose in his chest every time he thought about his ninety-six days in hell. "No, mom. That was almost two years ago. I'm here, and I won't go away again, I promise."

Dianna suddenly reached for his hand and held it so tightly, pain radiated up his arm, and he tried to pull away, but she was much stronger than she looked. "Will _you_ help me find my son?"

"Mom?"

Tears began to roll down her cheeks. "They said he killed someone. They're lying?"

Her voice rose, and he reached over to stroke her cheek and tried to calm her. "it's alright. I promise I'll help you, mom."

"Who are you?" Dianna asked again.

"It's me, Spencer."

Dianna didn't respond, except to keep hold of his hand. He sat for a long time without speaking until she let go of him. He reached into her nightstand and withdrew a book he'd brought to read. He read aloud to her until he realized she'd fallen asleep. "I'll go now, mom. Merry Christmas. I love you."

Reid trudged out of her room and out of the building to his car. He sat behind the wheel and let a multitude of tears fall until he thought he could drive back to his lonely apartment and back to his memories and wishes.

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Reid jerked out of an uneasy sleep at a little after eight in the morning by the ringing of his phone. "Reid," he answered groggily.

"Dr. Reid, this is Shelly at Summit Vista. I'm sorry to call you so early."

"Oh god – my mom, is she – "

"She's fine," Shelly assured him in an apologetic tone. "I'm sorry I frightened you. I'm calling because your mother's been asking for you and she refuses to eat. I wonder if – "

"I'll be right there."

Reid arrived back at Summit Vista an hour later and hurried down the corridor to the nurse's station where he found Shelly, his mother's nurse at the desk.

"Oh, Dr. Reid, that was fast. Thank you for coming."

"Of course," he nodded as Shelly came around the desk and led him down the hallway to his mother's room. "She's a bit agitated."

"What happened?"

"One of the aides just finished helping her bathe and brought her back into her room. She seemed to notice her Christmas tree for the first time; then she pointed to one of the ornaments and her eyes lit up. She started asking for you and refused breakfast until we promised you'd come."

Reid hurried into the room and found his mother with one of the aides. Dianna looked up at him and smiled in a way he hadn't seen in months. "Spencer, where have you been, baby?"

"I'm sorry, mom." Reid bent and hugged her.

"Who are these people?" Dianna asked.

"This is Shelly, and this is Candy. They take care of you. Remember, we moved you to Summit Vista in DC, so you could be close to me."

"I forgot again, didn't I," Dianna said and began to cry.

"It's okay, mom. Don't worry."

Dianna touched his face. "You look so tired, baby. Are you working too hard again?"

"I'm alright, mom."

"You need to take care of yourself."

"I know, I'm trying. Merry Christmas," Reid tried to deflect the attention away from the fact that he'd slept terribly.

"It's Christmas already," Dianna said. "I'm glad. Where did you find that old ornament?"

"Aunt Ethel sent it to me."

"I remember when you made that for me," Dianna said.

"You do?" Reid said in astonishment.

"Of _course_ , I do."

"Would you like to open your gift?" Reid asked after Shelly said she'd bring them both something to eat.

"You didn't have to get me anything," Dianna chided, but she looked at the brightly wrapped box on her table with interest.

Reid gave it to her, and she opened it carefully. He used his pocket knife to open the cardboard box, and Dianna began to cry again as the sight of a beautiful music box he found in a small DC shop on J street.

"Would you like to listen?"

"Yes."

Reid opened the box and it began to play Clair de Lune, Dianna's favorite classical piece. "It's lovely," Dianna breathed. "Thank you, son."

"You're welcome."

"I love you, Spencer."

"I love you, too."

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"Then what happened," Garcia inquired when she brought Reid a cup of hot chocolate from her tiny kitchen.

"We ate breakfast together and talked. It was the longest period of lucidity she's had since I transferred her to Summit Vista, even Shelly was amazed. But it did end, and by the time I left, she was back to looking at me as though I were a stranger."

"I'm sorry and glad for you at the same time," Garcia said.

"Thanks," Reid said and sipped his drink. "I appreciate lunch and company on the day after Christmas."

"No problem."

They were quiet for a long time until Garcia said. "I'm happy you got your very own Christmas miracle."

"I'm not sure I'd call it a miracle."

"It is," Garcia insisted. "Your aunt sends you the very thing that triggers memories and an extended period of lucidity for your mom. I'd say that _is_ a miracle."

"Maybe," Reid prevaricated.

"No maybes," Garcia said firmly. "It was real."

"I suppose," Reid said slowly.

"Believe it," Garcia said. "It's the season for miracles, sweet cheeks."

"If you say so," Reid agreed because he thought she might be right.

"I do say so. I also say that you and I need to get out of here for the afternoon."

"Why," Reid asked in dismay. "It's warm and quiet here."

"Because there are sales on and I need new shoes."

Reid groaned but stood when Garcia tugged on his arm. "Come on," she said. "This won't hurt a bit."


End file.
